


a serpent cries in a bar

by squishyserpent



Series: a serpent and a snake [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst?, M/M, just some good old fashioned snake bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishyserpent/pseuds/squishyserpent
Summary: Crowley and Loki's friendship continues, and Crowley deals with more Aziraphale-induced despair. Loki attempts to help.





	a serpent cries in a bar

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the snake bois!!! follow @starktomercury <<33

A few weeks following their first interaction, the demon and the god of mischief had become well acquainted with each other. Each of them weren’t very used to making friends, which, in any other circumstances, would have made things awkward, but that wasn’t the case. They easily built their friendship between car rides and drinks, something all good relationships should be based on. That, and a mutual lack of friends. 

Crowley’s Bentley zoomed along the road, the sun filtering through the trees overhead. Music was blasting as loud as ever, but now, Crowley wasn’t driving alone. 

“Snake,” Crowley began, speaking over _ A Day at the Races _and keeping his eyes on the road, “I have a very important question for you. A monumentally important question.” 

The nickname had become a frequent word in Crowley’s vocabulary ever since Loki had admitted to him he transformed into a snake to scare his brother, and it made Loki chuckle slightly every time he said it. Crowley had nearly fallen off his bar stool with laughter when Loki told him that story. Normally someone would say the word with such malice and loathing, but Crowley somehow managed to give it the opposite effect.

Loki, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at him expectantly, raising his eyebrows. 

“What music do you listen to?” Crowley asked, completely serious about the importance of the question.

Loki stared at the demon, dumbfounded. 

“Music?” Loki echoed, not understanding the significance.

_"Yes, music. _ If there’s one thing that the Earth has done right, it’s music. That, and alcohol. Alcohol and music.” Crowley insisted, gesturing about his car, where there were multiple tapes containing music of all kinds.

Loki inspected them, noting that a great deal of them were by a band called Queen. 

“You seem to be very transfixed with Queen.” Loki noted.

“Ah, I love Queen. That, and all the tapes here eventually change into Queen tapes.” Crowley explained, an ignored stop sign flashing across his shades.

“Why do you like music so much?” Loki asked, only recalling a few songs he’d actually enjoyed.

“Music is,” Crowley paused, searching for the right words. He was extremely passionate about his music, and Loki deserved a solid explanation.

“Music is _ life. _Music’s joy, pain, anger, or any other feeling you can think of. Music is alive, it breathes and takes over everything. It makes you remember what life is.” Crowley finished, putting a lot of thought and care into each word.

Loki nodded. “And life is…?” 

“Music.” Crowley repeated simply.

“I can’t explain it to you, it’s something you experience for yourself.” Crowley, keeping only one hand on the wheel, fumbled about and popped a David Bowie tape into his car.

As David Bowie sang about ray guns and electric eyes, all amidst a moonage daydream, Loki began to understand what Crowley meant. The two sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride.

\---

“I’ve got it!” Loki cried, bursting into Crowley’s apartment and sending his long coat to a rack with a wave of his hands.

Crowley, draped across the couch, who had been expecting his arrival, tilted his head upwards.

“You’ve got what?”  
  
“Why you like music so much.”

“_ Oh really _,” Crowley replied eagerly, moving into a sitting position.

“Yes! I’ve been listening to ABBA all day.” Loki said with a smile.

Loki had come across the band’s music while at the grocery store, another Midgardian practice Crowley had convinced him to experience, and he listened to every song. It still rang in his ears.

Crowley stood and headed to the kitchen of his flat, rummaging around for wine. The many wine bottles he had stowed away clinked and clanked against each other as the demon wandered about.

“As you should! This requires a celebration.” Crowley called from the wine cabinet, his smile falling as he entered it.

Loki moved to the kitchen as well, to reach for the wine glasses, something Crowley had shown off the first time he visited. Loki hummed “Dancing Queen” as he chose two glasses. 

Loki moved to the kitchen countertop, waiting. The sun was beginning to fall beyond the kitchen window, and the light caught the glass on the wine glass magnificently. Loki tilted the glass, admiring it. 

Crowley was taking a long time to choose wine. Loki knew he was particular when it came to wine, but not this particular. Loki stood from the countertop and moved to the wine cabinet. 

Crowley leaned against the wine cabinets, with his eyes closed, gripping the bridge of his nose. His hair spilled over his face, and he was wracked with silent sobs.

“Crowley?” Loki leaned against the cabinet frame.

Crowley sniffed, looking up and wiping his eyes, the golden pupils glinting in the dim lighting of the cabinet.

Wordlessly, Loki took the wine bottle from Crowley and directed him to the couch, sitting down across from him and waiting for him to talk. Crowley put his hands on his knees and swallowed. 

“You remember that angel I told you about?” Crowley asked, pushing his ginger hair from his sunken face. Loki nodded.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was, I’ve been with him since the beginning. And by beginning I mean _ the _ beginning.” Crowley paused, exhaling.

“We had an arrangement. I’d help him out with his duties, and he’d help me with mine. It was a dangerous arrangement to Aziraphale, since heaven and hell weren’t supposed to work together. Mortal enemies.” 

Pause. 

“What I didn’t realize was, it was a dangerous arrangement for me as well, and not because of that reason.

“I fell in love with him Loki. The moment I met him, when he gave humanity that flaming sword, I knew it. I kept finding him, saving him, doing good deeds, all for him. I couldn’t stop myself. It was dangerous.

“And now, it’s been almost 105 years since we last spoke. And I miss him.” Crowley’s voice crumbled, and his shoulders began to shake. 

“105.” Loki echoed, staring at his friend clearly for the first time.

That explains why he drank so much. Why the demon reached out to a bottle whenever he had the chance. He was nursing a century-long heartbreak. 

“I know, 105 years. You’d think I’d have gotten over it by now.” Crowley laughed bitterly, a sob building in his throat. 

Crowley reached out for the wine bottle, but Loki intercepted, pushing it out of his reach. Crowley sank further into the couch. Loki, deciding that he wouldn’t have much to contribute, sat and let his friend spill his words out in the open. 

He’d done a lot of that with Crowley. Listening. It was something he didn’t believe he was good at before, but now he did it naturally. One of the many changes Earth could bring, he guessed.

Loki leaned against the couch, letting Crowley speak, only moving to take a sip of wine. Crowley began his description of Aziraphale, huffing out pained words between gulps of wine, but he had slowed down eventually, putting the glass down and putting his whole being into painting a picture of the angel. Loki could see him from Crowley’s descriptions alone. White blonde curls, always wearing soft-colored clothes, loves antique books, food, and a million other things Crowley expertly listed. 

Crowley could have talked about Aziraphale forever, but with each word he felt his chest tighten more and more, giving fuel to his longing, a feeling that he couldn’t stand in the slightest. It was a suffocating feeling, and it was especially strong now that he had let the floodgates open. 

“I can’t get our last conversation out of my mind,” Crowley mumbled, cradling the wine glass the way a child would with a beloved toy. “I should’ve handled it differently.” 

“Everyone regrets things they say, Crowley.” Loki replied, hoping his words could give some comfort to his friend.

“What have you said,” Crowley paused to readjust himself into a position more appropriate for conversation, “that you regret?”

“I’ve gotten in some arguments with my brother that I’m not entirely fond of. Over stupid things. Things that weren’t entirely his fault.” Loki said with a sigh. “Same with my mother as well. But things change when you realize you’re adopted.”

“_ Adopted? _Well, that surely puts a rift in things.”

Loki nodded, feeling his mind drift to the past, away from the Earth, towards Asgard.

“I’m bringing this up to make a point. I can’t change what I’ve said to them. But you can. You can talk to Aziraphale.” Loki explained after a pause, watching as Crowley’s eyes flickered downwards.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Crowley said woefully, glancing at his wine bottle again.

“You said you’ve been with this angel since the beginning of time, Crowley. I think you can do this.” 

Crowley sniffed, rubbing his eyes, placing the wine bottle on the table with finality. 

“I hope you’re right.” Crowley said with a glance out the window, looking in the direction of the moon but not focused on it at all.

His eyes were staring at something he couldn’t see, or more precisely, someone he couldn’t see.

\---

Loki filled his eager customers’ glasses, ABBA bouncing against the walls of the bar, causing Loki to smile a few times throughout his shift. This caused some of his regulars to raise their eyebrows in shock.

The weekend was drawing near, and everyone’s anticipation and need for it was palpable in the bar that night. The energy was great.

The energy did cross with a hiccup though, when Crowley burst through the bar, one inch away from an emotional outburst. Loki, anticipating this, quickly got Crowley’s favorite alcohol (wine, whiskey, vodka, the works), to materialize behind the bar. Crowley, his hair tousled and sunglasses dipping low down his face, flopped into a stool.

Everyone ignored Crowley’s difference in mood in comparison to the rest of the bar, and when Loki had served all of his customers, he made his way over to his disheveled friend.

“What happened?” Loki asked, expecting to hear he had gotten in a brawl, judging from his current state.

Crowley turned his head upwards from his folded hands to look at Loki, his eyes holding more emotion than his face could muster. They burned with it, from his scrunched eyebrows to the tips of his eyelashes. Loki could already feel the hangover Crowley would get by the end of the night, and he reached under the bar for his first alcoholic offering.

“I talked to Aziraphale.” Crowley sighed, his sentence heavy, dropping from his mouth like a rock.

Loki absorbed this, opening his mouth but then being interrupted by a well-meaning customer. He gave his friend a sympathetic look and turned his attention away.

When Loki finally made it back to Crowley, he was already nursing his third drink. He had only given him one. Crowley clearly had manipulated the bar when Loki wasn’t looking. Loki gave him a cool glare, and Crowley gave him an all too innocent look in return. He was in a “I don’t give a damn about anything right now” mood, a mood Loki wasn’t too fond of but had learned to adapt with.

“What did Aziraphale say that’s gotten you like this?” Loki asked, a tiny bit exasperated.

“He gave me the holy water. He _ gave _ me the holy water. Then he said,” Crowley paused for a swig of his drink, “‘You move too fast for me, Crowley.’ What the shit is _ that _supposed to mean?” Crowley cried out, throwing his hands out in frustration before raking it through his hair, the current look of it indicating he had done this a lot throughout the night. 

“Wait a minute. Holy water?” Loki asked with a squint. 

“What, I didn’t tell you?” Crowley asked, surprised. Loki shook his head.

Crowley, as best as he drunkenly could, explained the whole situation with the holy water. Aziraphale’s refusal to give it to him, thus causing their century-long split, then their reconvening in which Aziraphale gave it to him after hearing about his scheme to get it on his own. 

Loki stopped him before Crowley could continue, pushing his dark curly locks from his inquisitive eyes.

“Why do you need holy water so badly? And, holy water’s unguarded. It just sits in a church. What’s the point in the scheme when you could just get it…” Crowley cut Loki off with a distressed groan, nearly breaking his glasses with the force he used to push them back up his nose.

“I admit it, that was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I did it to get Aziraphale’s attention, more than anything.” Crowley grumbled, causing Loki to roll his eyes and tug on his hair a little. His friend was too dramatic for his own good.

“You do realize this entire situation could have been avoided?” Loki said with a frustrated raise of his eyebrows, letting them fall for a moment as he slid a drink to a man a few seats down, then raising them again.

“Yes, but I needed that holy water, Loki. You haven’t got any idea what my people do to people like me when they don’t follow through on their orders. They’re bound to find out about Aziraphale and I, so I needed it. For security.” Crowley reiterated.

“You’ve said that. But, don’t you see Aziraphale doesn’t want to give it to you because he _ cares _ about you?” Loki stressed, making Crowley’s mouth dry, then shut closed.

“I-I mean, I, perhaps I,” Crowley stammered, trailing off as Loki was directed to the other part of the bar.

Loki turned to him as he pulled out a new bag of ice, giving him an affectionate, “You foolish serpent,” before returning to his job.

Crowley sat there, confused, blushing, and drunk, long after everyone else had filed out of the bar. Crowley spent so much time in the bar that he felt time itself wasn’t a concept there. 

“Did it seriously not occur to you that he’s doing this because he cares about you?” Loki asked, continuing their conversation now that the customers had left, and he only had to finish his clean-up routine. Loki kept his back to him as he waved his hands around, moving fallen stools upright and sending glasses and coasters to their respective places. 

“Loki, you’ve got to put this in perspective. I’ve been in love with him for 6000 years. 6000 years. And never in any of those years did I expect he would return those feelings. I made peace with it, somewhat.” Crowley defended, knowing if he wanted to continue this argument he would need to sober himself up soon.

“Well, he’s returning them now, in his own way. And you’ve got to understand where he’s coming from. You were asking him for a suicide pill. While you _ did _ have good intentions, it clearly didn’t sit well with him. He doesn’t want to lose you.” Loki explained, thinking it was funny how he was defending an angel he hadn’t even met.

“But what about the ‘moving too fast’ thing?” Crowley asked, feeling hopeless.

“I’m...not quite sure about that.” Loki admitted, somewhat defeated, as if this were his fight rather than Crowley’s.

Crowley, pushing his drink away with a sigh, readjusted his glasses and looked up at Loki, distracted. 

“You need to get yourself a date, Loki. Find yourself some love.” Crowley blurted out. 

Loki, chuckling, shook his head. 

“Look what it’s done to you, old snake.”

Crowley frowned, knowing he was right but wanting to disagree anyways. He didn’t like how alone Loki was, and it would give him some comfort if he had a partner, or at least another friend. 

“How about you go sober up, and we go do something fun? I don’t like the idea of you going home to sulk.” Loki suggested, attempting to break through his friend’s downcast mood. 

Crowley perked up somewhat at the suggestion, excusing himself to the bathroom to sober up properly. 

\---

After Crowley sobered up, Loki closed the bar for the night and told Crowley to drive to the closest mall. Crowley, frowning, agreed. He was still somber, the lack of alcohol in his system bringing full clarity to his pain. Crowley didn’t even have the heart to turn on music. He just stiffly turned his arms every once in a while to turn the wheel. His eyes threatened to water again as he glanced over at where Loki was sitting, remembering the many times Aziraphale had sat there. 

When Crowley and Loki arrived at the mall (after Crowley’s horrible parking job), Loki tugged on his sleeve until they eventually ended up in a swanky department store. Near the door, Loki crouched down and dragged Crowley beside him in a squat.

“What are we doing?” Crowley asked in a hushed voice, confused.

Loki swept his arms around, making him and Crowley unseen with a quick flick of his fingers.

“Watch.” Loki said, his eyes trained on a customer leaving the store, her heels clacking obnoxiously loud against the white tile.

Loki reached out to an expensive looking pair of earrings, causing it to levitate and move to the woman’s bag, stuffed full of clothes she could clearly afford, ending up in the bag with a nice plop.

The woman continued to walk towards the exit, completely unaware of the prank, and swept through the sensors. The sensors beeped and blared, alerting one of the employees. The employees rapidly materialized, checked her bag, and held out the earrings.

Loki snickered, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile as well. This was Loki’s attempt to cheer him up. 

The woman’s face _ was _priceless, Crowley admitted to himself.

“Okay,” Crowley said in a hushed voice, regaining his breath after laughing at Loki’s imitation of the woman’s face. “My turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos and comments please!


End file.
